


Drawing

by whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit



Series: Happy Ending Guaranteed [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Castiel Likes Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Likes Castiel, Drabbling, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5265848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit/pseuds/whyamidoingthisitswrongbutiloveit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel isn't always good with words. He prefers to draw instead.<br/>mini-drabbling</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the weird publishing, something went wrong the first time

Castiel isn't always good with words.

He prefers to draw instead. Drawing is another way to express oneself, and it’s easier. It might not be the best way to express oneself to others, as pretty much everything can be understood in different ways, but so can words too, so who cares.

Usually, on warm days, he’ll sit down in the shadow of a tree, the bark rough but steady behind him, and start sketching a new piece or work on a project, or add finishing touches to a piece. The weather has slowly but inevitably gotten cooler and the wind has picked up, so he has taken to draw in the classroom after school, waiting for his father to pick him up after work. It had worked out very well. A loving, but inexperienced and recently widowed young father could not afford daily babysitting, so Castiel would remain at school in the care of the after-school club held by a few teachers, he’d finish homework and could play with the other kids. He liked the female teachers most, and Chuck had often found the boy curled onto Miss Naomi's lap, clutching at her with his chubby hands even in his sleep. Miss Naomi had called attention to the artistic talent slumbering in the little one after an exceptionally well drawn picture, frighteningly advanced for a seven year old. The next day, Castiel had proudly presented his very own drawing _poffolyo_ and a mint pencil case with 48 colour pencils. Miss Naomi felt a lump in her throat when she saw his wide grin with two front teeth missing, telling her that he needs to draw an angel, because his dad had told him that his mama was one and he wants his dad to see her again. Castiel had slept when Chuck came, so Miss Naomi had made tea and listened. ‘You do well,’ Miss Naomi had told him, ‘and seeking help is always the hardest part.’ His dad framed the picture with red-rimmed eyes but a small smile.

That was close to ten years ago, and Castiel had kept his habit to stay back after school. Dad still picked him up and they would bicker about who is due to do the washing up or what they should make for dinner the next day.

On warm days, he’ll sit in the school's courtyard and draw. Usually, Charlie would pop down next to him, reading or playing some game on her off-white Game Boy (kept almost scratch-free since it had been gifted to her in 1997 and ridiculously nicknamed Baby). Castiel loves drawing Charlie, and she’s one of the few models he loves to use red for, using a wide pencil to capture the vibrancy of her hair and soul on paper.

Regular pencils are the best though, and he prefers hatching depth and contours instead of using colours, however sometimes he will use watercolours to add another layer. In the rare cases he decides to add colouring, he’ll use tones reminding him of the woods, mostly - earthy colours, shades of blue and green. Charlie once told him he’s mastered using 50 shades of grey and wouldn't stop chortling for a few minutes, though he is uncertain whether it was in reference to her using the words master and a play on the book’s name or his apparent and utterly disapproving look about her kind-of-admitting to having read at least parts of the books.

Lightly pressing the rubber to the paper, he deliberately smudges the lines, allowing the area to look softer. Quickly looking up and down again, he can feel his cheeks reddening.

Clearing his throat, he starts dotting the area with small, precise movements. He’s using the widened tip of the pencil now, to make sure the dots are kept soft.

It’s a cool day, but Castiel is sure that even if he would be sitting outside, he’d be warm and toasty, down to his toes.

See, for the last couple of weeks, it wasn't only Charlie that would plop down next to him. Dean Winchester was too.

  
Castiel isn't always good with words. But neither is Dean, especially when Castiel coyly flips his drawing block over to show Dean his finished portrait.

Castiel is seventeen, and his first proper kiss is gently taken in a silent, warm classroom with the first snow of the year being the only witness.


End file.
